Author's Notes: This chapter presents my greatest challenge yet. For, you see, it is currently my 6th day in Aruba; I am sitting on the balcony of our hotel room overlooking the sweet, sweet turquoise waters of the ocean and a plethora of palm trees, it's thirty-five degrees Celsius (not sure what that is in Farenheit for all the Americans…um…ninety?), and I'm going to write the Christmas Day chapter for TSD.

Calypso music starts playing over at the pool

Yep, this is going to be a challenge.

Author's Notes Part 2: Okay, I'm back from vacation now and just finished off the end of this chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Ro: As always, thank you for all your constructive criticism! You know I appreciate it.

Air of Mystery: Lol!

Lavender Dusk: Hmm…The Silver Phoenix…I'll think about it.

Rachel Anna: Welcome to the FU!

Stella: Thank you so very much!

don't feel like logging in: Nope, don't see a link…

nebulia Also welcome to the FU!

Thanks to JamC for the creative list of possible pen names, which includes Silvery Phoenix, A Phoenix That Is Silver, and L'il Silver Phoenix. Thoughts? Further suggestions?


Monday, 25 December

Merry Christmas!

11:04 a.m..

Now I know Christmas is a time for family and friends and being thankful for what you have and, if you're religious, celebrating the birth of Jesus. And I know that I am far too old to be obsessed with the material aspect of Christmas like I was when I was younger. After all, the greatest gifts I could possibly get are Mum's and Dad's love and wonderful friends like Ron and Harry and Ginny and Viktor and everyone.

But a very tiny part of me was still excited when I woke up this morning to those large, lovely, brightly-coloured packages at the foot of my bed…and you know, a very small part of me still got a thrill when I ripped off that first bit of wrapping paper on each present…

Really, I suppose it doesn't matter how old you are, everyone can appreciate presents, right? I mean, who doesn't like presents?

All right, so here's what I got:

Ginny

Ginny made me open hers first and I made her open mine first. She absolutely loved Witches and Quidditch: Four Hundred Fantastic Females in Quidditch History; in fact, apparently one of her favourite players, Angelica Ross of the some-alliterative-team-or-another was number two hundred and fifty-eight. So there you are.

Anyways, Ginny got me a package of Everlasting Quills, which I've heard are dead useful and are all the rage in America. I gasped when I opened the package and saw the words Everlasting Quill written on the sides of the eight quills in the pack.

"Ginny! How did you - "

"They're not the real ones," Ginny said quickly. "They're just imitation ones…see, it doesn't actually say Everlasting, it says Everlosting."

I checked. She was right. The "o" was sort of wonky though and looked like an "a" if you weren't looking very hard.

"The shopkeeper said they'd only last about a week each, but they're still pretty useful…you only have to dip each one in an inkwell once and then you won't have to do it again for a whole week. I wanted to get you a real one…you know, the ones from America that actually do last forever, but they're so bloody expensive…" Ginny trailed off.

"These are fantastic," I said enthusiastically. "Who wants some stupid American quill, anyway? I'd much rather an Everlosting Quill than an Everlasting Quill."

We both started giggling. That's the great thing about Ginny; I can giggle about things with her and I don't feel stupid or girly. When Parvati and Lavender have their giggling fits I want to perform a Deafening Charm on myself.

Mum & Dad

Mum and Dad sent me a very lengthy letter detailing their ski trip and all the great skiing I've missed out on ("Daddy even suffered through lessons, although he got into a horrid row with the ski instructor when she told him that he's been doing it wrong for years") and sent a few photos of themselves waving from the top of the slopes, getting on the lift, sitting in the chalet, etc. I showed them to Ron at lunch and he spent the entire meal marveling at them and bombarding me with questions through mouthfuls of food. He asked the twins if they could do some magic to try to make the pictures move so he could see skiing in action, but I rescued the pictures before the twins could set them on fire or something.

Anyways, I was sort of disappointed when I unwrapped Mum's and Dad's present and found a little velvet jewelry box; Mum knows I don't wear earrings and bracelets and the like. But it wasn't a necklace or something that I'll never wear. It was a silver brooch in the shape of a wand; not an actual wand, mind you, but the kind of wand you see in Muggle fairy tale illustrations which looks like a stick with a star on the end of it. And in the middle of the star was a tiny amethyst stone.

I can't really explain why I like it so much; it's an inaccurate portrayal of a wand and I'm not really a fan of jewelry, as I said before. But it's sort of like…a symbol of magic and of what I am. When I was small all the girls at school had these stupid charm bracelets, and they would get charms to represent all the things they did or liked - like a ballet slipper if they danced, or a horse if they did horseback riding, etc. Emma Crick had a particularly gaudy one with about a thousand charms on it that jangled annoyingly. Not that I ever wanted one, but I remember thinking that if I did have a charm bracelet, I wouldn't know what charms to put on it. A tiny book-shaped charm? But now I have something special that's all my own, that I'm good at, and that none of those girls from school would be able to put on their charm bracelets - magic. And the fact that Mum (I know Dad probably didn't have much of a say in it, as he's rather proud of the fact that the only time he's been in a jewelry shop was to buy Mum's engagement ring) bought something that represents magic and that I'm a witch shows that she's really proud of what I am and what I can do. Even if she does think I'm a sorceress.

I pinned the brooch to my sweater and Mrs. Weasley told me at breakfast that it's lovely, although she was rather puzzled when I told her it was supposed to be a wand.

"But there's a funny star stuck on the end of it…" she said, frowning.

Oh well. I'm still rather fond of it.

Mrs. Weasley

Mrs. Weasley knit me the usual jumper (a surprising change from violet to pale blue this year…almost exactly the colour of my dress robes at the Yule Ball, as a matter of fact) and gave me a box of homemade fudge. I already ate half of it this morning. It's a good thing I don't live with Mrs. Weasley all year round, because if my mother's cooking was as good as hers I'd weigh five hundred pounds by now (no offense to Mum).

I'm rather glad I bought Mrs. Weasley that brooch; she was wearing it at breakfast and thought it was so sweet of me to think of her. She gave me a big hug when we went down to the kitchen, and I noticed when she pulled away that her eyes were red-rimmed and she was sniffling quite a lot. I think it's because Percy sent back his jumper. Ron said some choice words about this during breakfast which I do not care to repeat, but which reflect my feelings on the subject fairly well.

Harry

Harry did get me The New Theory of Numerology, just like I wanted! I was so pleased…I can always count on Harry to get me something sensible like a nice book. And he always seems to get me the right book…it's nice to know that when I go off on a tangent about how great Arithmancy is, at least Harry listens. Now I sort of feel bad that I only got him that homework planner. Oh well, he needs it. I gave him the gifts of organization and planning.

Viktor

Oh, dear. I don't even want to think about how much Viktor's present must have cost. It's a glass prism which contains a tiny, perfectly detailed model of our solar system. The planets are really revolving and slowly orbiting around the sun and all the constellations are visible and everything. I checked my Astronomy text (I brought it along so I could read ahead if I had extra time over the break) and everything is perfectly accurate - the planets are even in the correct orientation for 25 December, 1995. This will be so useful for doing Astronomy homework! Although I won't use it to cheat or as a shortcut, of course…I have to memorize the planets and their positions for the exam, anyway. I'll just use it to check my work.

And all I got Viktor was that stupid Weather Orb…it probably doesn't even work…I feel terrible…

Ginny was in the toilet when I opened Viktor's present, and I hid it under my bed before she came back. I don't think I want anyone knowing about it, a) because Ron and Harry will want to use it to cheat and b) Ron will no doubt have something unpleasant to say if he finds out Viktor is buying me expensive gifts.

Tonks

Tonks got Weird Sisters T-shirts for both Ginny and I. She told us last night that she had gone to a Weird Sisters concert a fortnight ago, so she must have picked them up for us when she went. It was very nice of her to think of us, and the T-shirts are quite neat; when you put them on I think your body heat activates a charm that makes the words "Weird Sisters" flash different colours. Ginny really likes hers and proudly wore it down to breakfast (Mrs. Weasley made her march back upstairs and put on something "more appropriate for Christmas Day", though), but…well, it's not that I'm not thankful, but I just can't see myself wearing a Weird Sisters T-shirt. It is a nice souvenir, though…even though I'll never go to a Weird Sisters concert, I can say I have the T-shirt. I wonder how that charm works…

Hagrid

As usual, Hagrid's Christmas present tried to attack me. This year it's a wallet with fangs. I think the fangs are supposed to prevent people from stealing your wallet, but seeing as I won't be able to get any money in it without getting my fingers ripped off, it's sort of pointless. Don't get me wrong, I love Hagrid and I'm so glad he's back, but I think I'll tell him that from now on, instead of getting me a Christmas gift he should just give a charitable donation to S.P.E.W.

Ron

Oh, boy.

I opened Ron's present last, I think because I was subconsciously dreading that it would be the matching necklace to that horrid bracelet he got me for my birthday. But when I opened the clumsily-wrapped package, instead of a gaudy multi-coloured necklace I saw a pear-shaped glass bottle with a pale, yellow liquid inside.

"Huh," I said out loud, examining it. There was no note or anything - what kind of potion was it supposed to be?

"What's that?" Ginny called from her side of the room, where she was toying with Charlie's gift - a model of a dragon that spurted Every Flavour Beans instead of fire.

"No idea," I responded, turning the liquid upside down. Was it supposed to be some kind of joke? Maybe Ron expected me to try to drink the potion, and when I did I would turn into a parrot or something. I rolled my eyes at this thought - how stupid did he think I was?

Ginny walked over, squeezing her dragon model and catching the jellybean that flew out of its mouth. She gave the jellybean to me and I munched on it contemplatively (I think it was mutton-flavoured). Ginny held out her hand and I handed the bottle to her.

"It's perfume, silly," Ginny announced. She looked at me suspiciously. "Who's sending you perfume?"

"Erm…your brother," I muttered, feeling my cheeks grow hot.

Ginny choked on an Every Flavour Bean. "Which one?" she exclaimed.

"Bill," I said sarcastically. "Which one do you think?"

"Ha, ha," Ginny said wryly. "I meant that I thought it might be the twins, you know…one of their jokes, and the perfume is actually really rancid or something." She looked at me slyly as she handed back the bottle. "Ron's buying you perfume?"

"Shut up."

"Well, aren't you going to try it on?" Ginny asked in a singsong voice.

I sprayed it into the air rather than on myself, just to be safe. Ginny took a whiff of it and then looked puzzled. I sniffed and frowned. It wasn't necessarily a bad smell…just…odd. It wasn't flowery or fruity or the usual perfume smells. It was a somewhat familiar smell, but I couldn't place it. I still can't figure out what it reminds me of…it's been bothering me all morning. It smells sort of…clean. That's the only word I can think of to describe it.

"Can I see the bottle again?" Ginny asked. I handed it to her again, and she inspected it more closely. When she looked at the bottom, she suddenly burst into laughter. I hate it when she does that.

"What?" I asked, annoyed. She showed me the bottom of the bottle. In spindly letters were written the words Dame DuPont.

"So?" I said impatiently.

Still chuckling, Ginny went back over to her side of the room and started rummaging around in one of her drawers. She emerged with a recent copy of Witch Weekly (she says she only reads it for the crosswords and puzzles, but I have my suspicions…) and flipped it open to a brightly-coloured ad. Grinning wickedly, Ginny showed me the ad:

Tired of spending a fortune on overpriced perfumes? Wish you could give your sweetheart a special gift made by you? Want to create a unique scent that's tailored especially to your needs and preferences?

Dame DuPont's Do-It-Yourself Perfumes

It's simple! Just follow our easy-to-do steps! Choose your own ingredients from the wide selection offered in our kit to create your own unique fragrance! All the class of a store-bought perfume, without the cost! (But she doesn't have to know that…)

"I couldn't brew a potion to save my life. But Dame DuPont's Do-It-Yourself Perfumes are so easy to make! I must have about a thousand fragrances by now…" Mabel Worthshire, Bath.

"My girlfriend was always complaining that I was too cheap. Boy, was she surprised when she got perfume for her birthday! I told her it cost fifty galleons. She'll never know it actually cost fifty sickles!" Anonymous customer, London

Each kit includes:

- Easy-to-follow instructions!

- A wide selection of ingredients!

- A beautiful perfume bottle to store your creation in!

Get yours today!

Note: Dame DuPont's Do-It-Yourself Perfumes may cause itching, rashes, or skin colouration in some rare cases. Please test on a small portion of skin before excessive use.

I slowly looked up from the magazine. Ginny was still grinning.

"He couldn't get you real perfume because it's too expensive, so he must have bought one of those kits…honestly, the fool, everyone knows these things never actually work…"

I suddenly felt very defensive of Ron. "Well, it's a very nice thought," I heard myself say in a rather high-pitched voice. "And it's not a bad smell, just…odd."

Ginny stopped that infernal grinning for a second to wrinkle her nose. "What is it? It smells weirdly familiar…"

"Don't know," I said, suddenly feeling business-like. I shoved the perfume bottle into my trunk, where I had already hid Viktor's solar system.

"Well, that's all of my presents, I'm going down to breakfast. Hurry up and get dressed," I said briskly. I grabbed Kreacher's present, strolled out of the room, and headed downstairs before Ginny could tease me about the perfume any more. I was still trying to figure out what on earth that smell was when I nearly walked into Ron himself on the stairs.

"Whoa," Ron said, leaping aside so I wouldn't barrel into him. "Merry Christmas."

I quickly assessed Ron's facial expression. Did he look like someone who had just bought me perfume - strange perfume, but perfume nonetheless? Ron scratched his nose and looked nonchalant as Harry wished me a Merry Christmas as well. Hm.

"Thanks for the book, Harry! I've been wanting that New Theory of Numerology for ages," I said happily, still watching Ron's expression carefully. "And that perfume's really…unusual, Ron."

And then I saw it. I don't think Harry noticed, and I may not have either unless I was looking for it, but there it was…that slight pinkness at the tip of his ears.

"No problem. Who's that for, anyway?" he said quickly, nodding at Kreacher's present. Ah ha…trying to change the subject, perhaps?

Wait, wait, wait. No. I am not going to overanalyze this. So Ron bought some mail-order kit to make me perfume for Christmas. It doesn't mean anything, and quite frankly I don't care, because I'm going to achieve emotional satisfaction and he's not going to stop me.

I'd better go; we're going to have lunch soon and then go visit Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo's. I'm actually quite excited to visit St. Mungo's, although I wish the circumstances were different, of course. As far as I know, Mundungus has obtained a car (as with our Christmas tree, the circumstances surrounding the obtainment of this car are sketchy) and he's going to drive us to the hospital (I can only pray that he's a better driver than Tonks). I wonder what a wizarding hospital is like…

9:00 p.m.

Oh, Neville…I never knew…

St. Mungo's was fascinating, of course, but that's not important…after visiting Mr. Weasley (who is doing much better, although he seems to have tried to stitch his wounds together the Muggle way and it didn't entirely work out) Ron, Harry, Ginny and I left to go find the tearoom. Mrs. Weasley had found out about the stitches, you see, and we thought it would be wise to gracefully bow out during the confrontation that followed.

On our way to the tearoom, however, we were stopped by the sight of the last person I imagined we would see at St. Mungo's - Professor Lockhart.

"Well hello there!" he said brightly. He's still very handsome, of course…but now, his smile seems sort of vacant and his eyes look very dull. He started going on about signing autographs for all of us and we were beginning to feel very uncomfortable (particularly Ron, whose wand caused the damage to Professor Lockhart's memory), when a Healer poked her head out of a door and came bustling down the corridor.

"Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?" she said in a motherly voice. Ron grabbed mine and Ginny's sleeves and tried to tug us away, but the Healer spotted us. "Oh Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas Day too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

I know that the only reason Professor Lockhart is there is because he tried to curse Ron and Harry, but still…I think we all started feeling very sorry for him.

"He's in a closed ward, you know," the Healer continued conversationally, "he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door's usually kept locked…not that he's dangerous! But he's a bit of a danger to himself, bless

him…doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back… it is nice of you to have come to see him."

We all felt even worse.

Before we knew it, we were following the Healer and Professor Lockhart, who was still going on about autographs and joined-up writing, down the hall and into the closed ward. Although it had been decorated festively for Christmas, and there was an attempt to make it seem homey by surrounding many of the residents with their personal possessions, there was an unsettling feeling to the ward. One man was staring at the ceiling, muttering to himself. Another woman's head was covered entirely in fur - I was unpleasantly reminded of my own experience in second year. A girl who may have been only a few years older than me (although it was hard to tell, because she had premature wrinkles and there were silver streaks in her hair) was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, completely motionless. I shivered and stepped closer to Ron.

"This is our long-term residents' ward," the Healer told us. "For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement."

I looked around again in horror. Some improvement? Wasn't there anything that could be done for those people?

I was so disturbed by the ward and the people in it that I didn't even notice Ron calling Neville's name until he was a few feet away from us. Snapping back to reality, I realized that Neville Longbottom was coming towards us with a very formidable-looking woman who I presumed was his grandmother. I stared at him in surprise.

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" said Neville's grandmother. I fought a strong urge to curtsy to her. I think Mrs. Longbottom causes that kind of reaction in people.

Mrs. Longbottom recognized Harry, of course, and Ron and Ginny by their hair, but I was very surprised when she turned to me and said, "And you must be Hermione Granger?"

Surprised, I shook her hand when she held it out. Mrs. Longbottom had quite a grip.

"Yes, Neville's told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you?" She looked at me approvingly, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. "He's a good boy, but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say." And with that, she nodded at a pair of beds surrounded by flowery curtains at the end of the ward.

My eyes widened.

"What?" Ron, being the insensitive, oblivious idiot that he is, exclaimed in amazement. "Is that your dad down the end there, Neville?"

Ginny looked shocked. Harry looked as if he wanted to pinch Ron. I felt mortified; clearly if Neville's father was in this particular ward, he had been here there for some time. And if Neville hadn't told us about it before, it was probably for a reason. I had always just assumed that Neville lived with his grandmother because his parents had passed away when he was young and that he didn't like to talk about it. Ron continued to stare at Neville expectantly.

"What's this?" said Mrs. Longbottom sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

Neville looked like he wanted to disappear. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" said Mrs. Longbottom angrily. "You should be proud, Neville, proud!They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," Neville said in a very small voice, staring at the floor.

"Well you've got a funny way of showing it!" Mrs. Longbottom snapped. She turned to us. "My son and his wife were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

I felt my jaw drop, and my hand went to my mouth in horror. Ron immediately stopped craning his neck to get a better look at Neville's parents and looked horrified.

Just then, a very thin and frail-looking woman with the same overlarge eyes as the teenage girl in the bed came tottering over in her nightdress. If you looked at her hard enough, you could see the ghost of a woman who resembled Neville. She beckoned to Neville, who stretched out his hand. I suddenly felt that we should probably all look away and mind our own business, but I was frozen and my eyes were fixed to the scene. Neville's mother dropped a gum wrapper into Neville's hand.

"Thanks, Mum," he said quietly. Neville's mum headed back to her bed, humming to herself. I felt like I was going to cry.

"Well, we'd better get back…nice to have met you all," said Mrs. Longbottom briskly. "Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now."

But when his grandmother wasn't looking, Neville put the wrapper in his pocket. They left the ward, Neville avoiding our eyes.

The four of us just stood there, not sure what to say or do.

"I never knew," I finally said in a thick voice.

"Nor did I," said Ron hoarsely.

"Nor me," whispered Ginny.

We all looked to Harry expectantly.

"I did," he said miserably. Why didn't he stop Ron from opening his big mouth, then!

"Dumbledore told me but I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," Harry said in a low voice. "That's what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for, using the Cruciatus Curse on Neville's parents until they lost their minds."

Bellatrix Lestrange is Sirius's cousin…she's the woman who Kreacher has a photo of in his bedroom…oh, how could Sirius and Tonks have come from such a family?

When we went back to Mr. Weasley's room, a very young and nervous-looking Healer seemed to have calmed Mrs. Weasley down somewhat, and Professor Lupin was writing something down for the man in the bed next to Mr. Weasley (Ginny told me later that he had been bitten by a werewolf). Bill, Mundungus, and the twins returned (the twins with bulging pockets…I don't even want to know) and we all headed home.

Ron, Ginny, Harry, and I were silent on the way home. We didn't even say anything when we got back to Grimmauld Place and discovered that the twins had replaced all of the doorknobs with the latest Weasley's Wizard Wheezes creations - fake doorknobs that screamed and screeched at you when you tried to open a door. They said that they got the inspiration for the idea from Mrs. Black.

"We still have to think of a name for the product, of course," Fred said brightly as the parlour's doorknob yelled at Ron to get his dirty paws off of it. Ron, Ginny, Harry, and I said nothing.

"What's the matter with you lot?" George asked, looking crestfallen.

"Nothing," Harry muttered.

Without saying anything to each other, we all reached an unspoken agreement to go upstairs, and silently followed Harry into his and Ron's room. Ron and Harry sat on Harry's bed and Ginny and I sat on Ron's. We were all silent for a long time.

"Isn't there anything…anything that can be done for them, Harry?" I finally said in a small voice.

"I dunno," Harry said, sounding tired. "They've been there for a long time."

We were quiet for a bit again. "Lockhart," Ginny suddenly said, shaking her head.

"Serves him right, what he tried to do to us. He was going to leave you to die in the Chamber of Secrets, you know," Harry said, but he even he looked a bit sorry for Professor Lockhart.

"I know," said Ginny. "But still…I wouldn't wish that on anybody…"

We all lapsed into silence once again, until Ron suddenly said in a low, fervent voice, "I am going to be nice to Neville for the rest of my life."

Mrs. Weasley came up to see if we wanted some leftovers for dinner, but no one was feeling very hungry. Sirius, who was still in a very merry mood, came upstairs later and tried to entice us to sing Christmas carols with him, and then became disappointed and bitter when we told him we just weren't in the mood.

I can't stop thinking about Neville's parents. All those Healers at St. Mungo's and they can only make limited progress with people like the Longbottoms or Professor Lockhart or that teenage girl with the wrinkles. You know…I would love to take S.P.E.W. farther, but once I've accomplished house-elf liberation…maybe I'll think about being a Healer.

I think I'm going to do some revision and then go to bed…not a very exciting end to Christmas Day, but it's hard to feel merry when you know that some people are spending their Christmas in the closed ward at St. Mungo's.

10:25 p.m.

Laundry detergent!

That's what the perfume smells like!

Laundry detergent…oh, Ron…